


The Best of the Worst

by BeignetBenny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, conversion therapy, mention of underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4930513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeignetBenny/pseuds/BeignetBenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true start of an asylum was in the 1800s. As time went on, what would get you thrown into one became more and more common. Whether that was just how society progressed, or the doctors and orderlies who worked there just wanted more power, nobody could quite tell. The people who truly needed help were just thrown in with murderers. People would be electrocuted and trained into not loving the people they once did.<br/>Castiel was one of those people. He thought he would be able to fake a recovery. At least he did until he met a man with a smile that could light up the darkest rooms. To Cas, the mysterious man was probably the only sane one in the asylum. But, what he didn’t know was that everyone else thought he was the worst one there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Dreadview

 

The year was 1963. The last of asylums were beginning to close, and the ones that had yet experienced that fate became overcrowded. Dreadview was one of them.

Each hospital was filled to the brim with WWII veterans and murderers. People who genuinely need all of the help they could get, and people who were forced there just because of something so trivial.

Castiel didn’t need to be there. He knew he didn’t need to be in there. Yet, there he was, in a concrete cell with one window near the ceiling that was barred. He could hear crows cawing from outside and the sound of trees moving in the wind. “You’re making a huge mistake,” He cried out, pulling at the leather restraints around his wrists. “You wouldn’t even tell me what the hell I’m doing here.”

“I think you know the answer to that well enough, fag.” A man shadowed in the corner of the cell responded. “You brought this upon yourself.”

Castiel shook his head, and yanked his hands up again. His wrists and ankles began to burn where the leather was ripping into them. “Look at me in the eye and tell me I did this to myself.” he bit back

“We’re just here to help you, Castiel.” Another voice joined the conversation. This one aged like a fine wine, yet as intimidating as a well trained marksman. Just her seven words made him shut up immediately. He made an attempt to sit up, trying to see the face that came with the voice. All he saw were shadows.

_-_

“Are you sure this is a risk you’re willing to take, Castiel?” He looked up at his sister, pencil in between his lips and his eyebrows raised.

“I’ve done things like this before.”

“I know that. But this?” She motioned towards the typewriter that his hands were resting on. It was the only time his fingers had stopped moving since he had returned to her house.

“This is bad, even for you,” She continued. “Especially for you.”

“I’ve marched with Martin Luther King, Anna.” Castiel said standing up from his seat and walking towards her. “In Washington D.C of all places. I think that would probably be the most risky thing I’ve done.”

“Sure, you were called things, but I feel like this has a larger effect on…” Anna sighed. “Us.”

“I’m fully aware of the consequences involved.”

“You just went to an asylum that is renowned for their conversion therapy.” Castiel turned his attention to the ground. “You. Of all people.”

“If you were actually there, you would know why I am going to follow through with this.” Castiel lifted his head back up, and placed his hands on his older sister’s shoulders. “Throwing people like us in facilities like that? I just don’t think there’s a real reason to do that. I haven’t hurt anyone. So why should they have to hurt me for the men I inevitably love.”

“Balthazar...” Anna sighed, trying to chose her words carefully. Knowing how her brother would react if she said the wrong thing. “His incident was a year ago.”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“He was the only man you’ve ever been intimate with.”

Castiel hesitated with his answer. “You know how I feel about sex. He’s the only person I’ve ever been with ever. I need to really feel close to that person. And Balthazar and I was just an act of drunken desperation. I loved him, yes, but not that much.”

“All I’m saying is, if you don’t like actually having sex, why don’t you just pretend to be heterosexual?”

“Because I can’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve tried,” He sighed, dropping his hands back down to his side. “I understand that you’re worried. I also understand that you don’t know what people like me are truly going through. I’m going to write about it. I’m going to submit it to the newspapers. Hell, if I need to I may just print it myself along with father’s stories.”

Anna was silent for a moment, looking from the oak door back to her brother. “You’re truly serious about this, aren’t you?” He nodded. “Then I’m sorry. You’re asking too much of me Castiel. I can’t help you on this one.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but when nothing came out, he closed it once more. Anna took that as a sign for her to speak again.

“It’s too dangerous, Castiel. I won’t do it. And if you do decide to go through with this, all that you will get in return is pain.”

_-_

It had only been hours and Castiel had already began to have a great fear of the dark. Things felt as if they were moving around him. Was he going crazy? Already? He shouldn't have let himself do it. He shouldn’t have even gotten near this place. Just one interview and the questions he did end up asking was enough to get him thrown in a cell.

He sucked in a breath and held it as footsteps neared his room. The door opened to reveal a petite woman with dark brown hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a gray flared skirt and a white blouse tucked into her skirt.

“Have you calmed down?” Her voice was smooth, yet oozed with a sarcastic tone. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Naomi told me to bring her to you when you did.” She stepped toward him and began to undo the leather straps around his wrists. A name was sewed on in cursive onto her shirt that read Meg.

“Also,” She spoke again after one of his hands were free. “Don’t get any ideas about getting out. I have two guys behind the door waiting for you. But, they thought it would be better if I did this. Patients first and all.”

Castiel sat up and rubbed at his wrists. He was still in the clothes that he was taken in. Black pleated pants and a button up white shirt. The only things that had seemed to be missing were his belt, tie, and shoes.

“Where are my-” He began in a low voice, but was cut off by Meg who was answering his question.

“You had too many risks on you.” She answered simply. “The beams are low enough and we’ve had too many close calls recently. We already get reporters like you in, we don’t need anymore.”

The way she had started almost made Castiel believe that she had cared. He looked towards the ceiling as he stood up. Although the ceiling in his room was low considered to everywhere else he had seen, it wasn’t nearly low enough to kill himself. Although, if he was persistent enough, he could manage it.

“Don’t get any ideas.” Meg said as she stood up as well. “You still haven’t gotten formal introductions.”

The men that Meg had mentioned walked into the room and hooked their arms around Castiel to lead him out the room.

The hallways were just as dark, if not darker, than his room. The ceiling lights flickered with every step and the bunker lights that were lower looked as if they were ready to go off any second. Red lights flashing on and off while loud noises went off. It made him wonder how often they used it, and if it was used during the “Close calls” that Meg had mentioned.

They came up on a room that had a thick oak door. It looked to be the only luxury in the entirety of the asylum. There was screaming coming from the other side of the door. Most of the yelling had come from a woman inside, but was occasionally met with a man’s voice. Castiel couldn’t quite make out the words but he knew he did not want to be in there. He pulled back, causing both of the men holding onto him to stop in their tracks and look down at him.

“I’m not going in there.”

“You did this to yourself,” one said, yanking him closer to the door. “If you fight, you’re going back in that room even if it means we need to force tranquilizers on you. We’re trying to make this as easy as possible.”

The oak door was open in front of him and he was met with two people in what looked to be an office. The man was the obvious patient. His hair had grown out shaggy and he was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt paired with dark gray pants and shoes that could be slipped on. Again, no belt, no laces.

The woman, on the other hand, was wearing something similar to Meg. A long black flared skirt with a white blouse tucked in. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun as well and her face had a more stern expression than Meg’s. She also had a few more years on her.

“Did I not ask you to knock?” The woman asked.

“You told us to bring Castiel as soon as we could.” Meg countered.

“That doesn’t cancel out the rule of knocking.” The woman stood up from behind her desk and walked around it. She glared down at the man sitting in her seat, whose head was dropped. “Don’t think we’re finished here, Samuel. What you did was unforgivable. We were beginning to get somewhere and you ruined all of our progress.”

“I didn’t mean to.” The man answered, his voice gruff and deep.

“Nobody really means to do anything. Now go.”

He stood up reluctantly. When he stood up, he towered over everyone in the room. The only ones who were a little close to matching his stature were the guards. Even then, they were still and inch or two off.

The man, Samuel, walked past Castiel, but kept his head low. Once he was out of the room, they moved him to sit in the seat.

“Catstiel,” Naomi said. “I assume you’re happy with your stay?”

Castiel hesitated. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Oh, no.” She walked back to the other side of the desk and sat down, her back so straight that it looked as if she had a rod down her back. “You were the one who wanted to see inside Dreadview, now you have.”

“If you had asked me not to have it published, I would have stopped it before it even was sent to the publisher.”

Naomi shook her head. “No you wouldn’t. You’re a sick man, Castiel. You can’t convince someone who is as sick as you.”

“I’m not-” He tried to say, but was cut off by her holding her hand up, silencing him.

“Before we decided it be best for you to join us, we read some of your other work. Learned a little more about you.

“You sir, have quite a lot on your head, don’t you? We found multiple rumors of you being a homosexual, but of course we would still need proof. You are very good at hiding it though. That was, until we learned about Sergent Balthazar Roche.”

His throat went dry and his heart skipped a beat. The look of terror he wore on his face must have been a signal to Naomi for her to continue.

“Sergeant Roche was discharged December fifteenth 1962, for sleeping with a man while he was on the field.”

“I don’t understand your point.” Castiel cut in, forcing his voice to be steady.

“Well, of course the other soldier would be discharged as well, they ended up going home together. Then five days later, on December 20th, Balthazar was killed. It’s almost been a year since your loss Private Novak. You have three weeks left until the actual day, and you’ve done nothing but write about the things they do to people like you and your late…” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Partner. None of that would have happened if he had just gotten over his sickness.”

“He wasn’t sick,” Castiel countered. “And neither am I. Nor anybody else like me.”

She nodded. “If you think that way, fine. I’m just trying to save you from having to die the same day as him.”

“What makes you think I would.”

“Because people are, cruel Castiel. The world is full of monsters and, I will admit, you’ve angered one of them with that article of yours.”

Before he had the chance to respond, he was pulled up from the chair, his hands held behind his back. He fought once more, trying to run forward at Naomi, but all of a sudden he couldn’t. There was a sharp pinch in his arm, and suddenly his body started going numb and his vision started to go dark. Castiel felt his weight fall onto the men and the last thing he saw and heard was Naomi with a sickening smile on her face and her voice.

“Welcome to Dreadview.”

 

 


	2. My Fearful Doom to Meet

Castiel opened his eyes to see he was back in his designated room. His arm throbbed and the little sun that had once gone through the window was no more. The sun had began to set earlier and earlier as winter made it’s way towards them, to the point that he couldn’t quite tell the time. It could only be five o’clock or near midnight.

He hesitantly sat up, his eyes locked on the door. After standing, he walked towards the door and carefully tugged at it. The door opened slowly, much to Castiel’s surprise. He peaked his head out of the door. A few people walked through the halls in a way that looked aimless. One man was pacing in front of a door, and another was just wondering down the hall.

After he stepped out, the weighted door closed loudly, causing him to flinch and look back at it. Castiel took a deep breath, truly just happy to be out of the room and began to walk down the hallway at a leisurely pace. He noticed far more when he walked by himself rather than being dragged through them.

The hall was still dark, but with more people in it, it felt more alive almost. The concrete walls had character with them. The scratches along the wall ran down the entirety of it. Four ragged lines that were only about five feet off of the ground. Darker stains covered the walls as well, closer to the corners between the floor and the walls. He could practically paint an entire story around just what the walls were covered with, but it was the people he wanted to know. It was his curiosity of the people that had gotten him thrown in there.

The hallway ended and opened up into a much large room with windows near the ceiling. Old couches and small tables with two seats at them decorated the room. It was filled with sickly looking people, all in different outfits yet still no laces or belts. What the woman wore resembled cloth sacks more than anything else. Some in jean, some in polyester or in cotton. What was most surprising to him was the younger teenagers who were there were wearing some of the clothes that Castiel had thought were hideous. The same bright colors and patterns that made his eyes hurt to look at to long. Even there’s looked like a bag, yet it was the only light in such a dark place.

“Are you okay?” A voice came from behind him. Castiel turned to see a tall man standing behind him. The same man who had looked so much smaller in front of Naomi. He had a small smile on his face and dimples in his cheeks. And then those eyes...

“Yes,” Castiel said, noticing that he had begun to stare. “Yes I’m alright. You’re Samuel, right?”

He nodded. “I usually go by Sam.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. And you’re Cas? Casteel…?”

Cas. The name was familiar to him, and left a warm feeling in his chest. Yet, simultaneously it felt heavier.

“Castiel,” He corrected. “But, Cas is fine.”

Sam nodded. “Okay Cas. How are you taking all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re new,” He said like it was obvious. “I saw you earlier.”

“When you had been talking to Naomi?”

Sam shook his head, a few stray hairs falling over his eyes. “No, when you were interviewing her. A few days ago. You didn’t seem like somebody who would really be in here. How did you end up in here?”

Cas hesitated, looking towards the ground. “I suppose it was what I was interviewing her about that got me in here.”

“You talked about a lot of stuff and I could only hear bits and pieces before we had to go back to our rooms.”

For a moment, Cas didn’t want to answer him. He wasn’t entirely sure how Sam would think, and he knew he needed a friend in there. Then, it hit him. Sam had obviously been there for a while based on what Naomi said. For what? He didn’t entirely care at that moment.

“I asked her about the conversion therapy,” Sam nodded solemnly in response. “Is there anything you know about that?”

He nodded again. “I’m surprised you’re still willing to talk about that. Since you do say that was what got you here.”

“I’m a journalist,” He shrugged. “I have a natural curiosity.”

“Well, I probably know a little more about it than I should.”

“Why’s that?”

“My brother…” Sam paused and looked behind him. Castiel tried to see what he was looking at, but to no avail.

“What did your brother do?”

Sam turned towards him, a confused look on his face. “What about my brother? I don’t talk about him, ever. How did you know about him?”

It was Cas’ turn to be confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it almost immediately after. Had Sam forgotten that quickly?

The confused look that Sam wore faded, and he laughed nervously. “Oh… we were talking about Dean, weren’t we? About the conversion thing, right?”

Castiel nodded, still confused. Sam continued. “He had to go through it when he was here.”

“Your brother was here as well?”

“Yeah, but only for a while. He left before anyone else could really notice. He was actually in here just a few months ago.”

“Did he tell you anything that happened?”

“He tried.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t really talk to openly around here,” He made a motion around the room. “Ears everywhere. I should really head back to my room, bye Cas.”

Like that, the tall, strange man got up and left. Speed walking out of the recreation room and into the dark hallway. Castiel, still confused by the confrontation, sat down by one of the tables that had “entertainment” on it. Entertainment as in paper, crayons, and a radio that played a hymn that he remembered hearing when he was growing up in the church.

Shall I, amidst a ghastly band

Dragged to the judgment-seat,

Far on the left with horror stand

My fearful doom to meet?

He sighed, the music bringing back memories that he had be trying to repress for years. Cas shook his head and ran a hand through his already messy hair before grabbing a sheet of paper and a black crayon that had been broken in half. He began to scribble across the paper, he had filled in half the page before a voice came from in front of him. There had been many voices around him talking around and around, so he assumed it wasn’t directed at him, until he saw a hand slapped down in front of him.

Castiel looked up to see the face that would match with the hand. He was met with a black man, much older than him. He was bald and had deep bags underneath his piercing brown eyes. His shirt was made out of worn denim and the name “Uriel” was sewn into it.

“You shouldn’t talk to Sam Winchester.”

He set the crayon down, looking the man, Uriel, in the eye. “Why is that?”

“He’s been here longer than me. The kid’s crazy.” Uriel said. “You shouldn’t even let him know your name.”

Castiel looked at him, confused. “Care to explain?”

Uriel leaned closer to Cas and began to speak in a low whisper. “The kid’s been in here longer than I’ve knew was possible…”

“How long is that?”

“Longer than Naomi  was here. Before her it was a man named Lucifer. Before that it was Ruby, and even before her it was the man who founded this place.” Uriel ran a hand along his bald head. “We saw you looking around earlier. So I know you know who he was.”

Castiel nodded. “Azazel, yes, I’ve heard of him. I read that this place was even worse while he was leading everything.”

“It was chaos.”

_-_

Sam ran the metal nail on the ground, making a weak attempt at sharpening it. He brought up and inspected it. Hoping it was sharp enough, he began to go over a groove in the wall that he had been working on for… how long had it been? Weeks? Months? He turned around and looked at the other wall. Tally marks took up as high as he could reach. When he first arrived, the lines were grouped by fives, sure that he wouldn’t even stay for a full week. But time kept passing, and he was still there. Fives turned to tens, and tens turned into hundreds. Each group of hundreds were circled, each ten was surrounded by a box, and the fives were left scattered around.

“Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…” Sam stopped his counting, swallowing hard. Nine circles, and he wasn’t even done counting yet. Over two years in a hell hole because his dad just couldn’t handle him anymore. Sam had just been to different and John had just been too busy. Dean told him that it was okay, that he would come home soon and he wouldn’t even miss a birthday. Instead, he missed two.

Sam shook his head and went back to the wall with the groove in it, continuing to carve it out, millimeter by millimeter. He had only gone over the line five more times before he heard the familiar sound of keys forcing their way into a worn down key hole. Worn because of how many different ways Sam had figured out how to pick the lock. He turned around so his back was turned towards the wall and his hands were behind him, hiding the nail.

“Samuel, I thought you were still sleeping.” Sam hissed at his name. A man stood in the door with ashy gray hair, a strong jaw, and ice cold yellow eyes. His shadow crawling across the floor, reached for the boy.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve been awake.”

“Other kids like you down medicine like that, they’re out for hours. Maybe even days.”

“I wasn’t tired.”

Azazel nodded, then took a few steps closer to before kneeling in front of him. Sam pressed his back closer to the wall, to the point that the cool cement chilled his skin through the thin shirt he wore.

“You sure you didn’t just forget to take it, Sammy?” Azazel hummed, getting into Sam’s breathing space.

“Positive.”

He looked towards the wall with the tally marks. For a moment, it was quiet. Each breath that Sam took echoed throughout the chamber. “You’re a few days off, kid.”

“What?” He looked at the wall, counting over the numbers in his head. “No, I didn’t. Nine hundred fifty-eight. It has to be right.” He moved away from the wall, forgetting about the nail completely. Sam counted them again, and again, and again. He wouldn’t risk messing up on the wall. It was the only thing he actually had control of. Some of those days he would only be awake for a few minutes, but he still managed to get those tallies up.

“How many days did I miss?” Sam asked, turning back to Azazel.

“Three,” Azazel stood up and reached into his back pocket. “Do yourself a favor. Add a few more lines, then take this.” He walked over to the side of Sam’s excuse of a bed and set a small paper cup on it.

Sam shook his head. “Why would I take those? I was just asleep for three days. I’m not taking those. I’m going home.”

“You ain’t going home, Kid.” He stepped away from the pills and walked to the door. Sam noticed that he was purposefully avoiding the nail, acting as if he hadn’t even seen it. “No more home to go to.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Language. You may be a kid, but you aren’t the youngest. Got to be a leader.”

“Just please answer the question.”

“He was shipped off to Japan months ago. Got caught and, if he isn’t dead yet, he’s a prisoner of war.”

“And my brother?”

“You know your brother well enough to take a good guess.”

Azazel was right. Sam was alone, officially. “You know what, I think I’ll take those now.”

Azazel smiled, an evil glint in his eye. “Atta boy. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”


End file.
